


Working Out A Few Kinks

by OldToadWoman



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27634273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldToadWoman/pseuds/OldToadWoman
Summary: Bunker-era Wincest fic. The boys have only recently acknowledged their mutual attraction and entered into a sexual relationship. But things aren't as awesome as they'd hoped.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 33
Kudos: 51





	1. Drunk Texting

**Author's Note:**

>   
>    
> 
> 
> I'm not 100% certain which season this best shoehorns into since in canon they never got a lot of breathing room between crises, but it's a bunker-era fic where they have only recently started having sex and admitted their feelings for each other. (In the back of my head, I sort of thought of it as a sequel to a first-time fic I wrote awhile back… but I don't like labeling it a sequel because I think the other work is best as a stand-alone. So in your head, just pick any bunker-era first-time scenario you like best and then imagine this story takes place a little bit after that.) 

Drunk texting was bad enough. Drunk texting by proxy was the literal worst.

"O. M. G." Deanna slurred. "Our boyfriend is fucking hot."

"Not our boyfriend," Dean corrected her.

He was still 99% sure that she'd said her name was Diana before it was his turn to introduce himself, but she stubbornly declared they were "Twinsies!" and wasn't letting go of the idea that they had some kind of spiritual connection. _Spirit_ ual beyond the shots they'd knocked back together. Or not. Very not. Diana/Deanna was a sloppy drunk and had at least ten years on him. He'd only been trying to be polite when she hinted he could buy her a drink and now he was stuck with a new drinking buddy.

"Gimme. Back. My. Phone." Dean carefully enunciated each word. Enunciation seemed important to maintaining the moral high ground.

"Not until you promise you won't break up with him. Look at those eyes!" she said, waving Sam's blurry picture in front of Dean's face. "How could you even think of breaking up with those puppy-dog _eyes_?" Her voice cracked on the last word and Dean swore she was about to cry.

"It's sho, sho—" He took a deep breath and tried again. " _So_ much more complexicated than you could possibly…"

Trying to explain had been a mistake. Diana/Deanna took advantage of his distraction and started typing _something else_.

"No!" Dean protested. "Gimme!"

The bartender cocked an eyebrow at them, a silent warning that said he _really_ didn't want to get involved but would if he had to.

"You're _welcome_!" she snapped when he wrestled the phone back. "You, like, owe me _big time_. Can I watch?"

"What?"

"When you _kiss_ -and-make-up," she winked at him to make it clear she didn't really mean kissing. "I wanna watch. Because you _owe_ me."

Dean glanced at the phone to see how much damage she had done.

Sam: `[[we?]]`

Dean saw that he had allegedly typed: `[[we wil nvr leave u!!!!♥]] `

Any previous message was obscured by Sam's big face, brows knit in his classic concerned puppy-dog face. In the corner of the selfie, he could just make out Castiel leaning in, squinting at the phone with a similar expression.

Fantastic.

They had a nosy audience on _both_ ends of the conversation.

He scrolled back to the last message he remembered actually typing a few hours—and many drinks—ago.

Dean: `[[i need some space]]`

Sam: `[[Why?]]`

Dean: `[[i won't be home tonight]]`

Sam: `[[Dean, what's going on?]]`

Dean: `[[don't wait up]]`

Sam: `[[What are you even mad at me about?]]`

That must have been about the time he put the phone on silent and started lining up shots. Rather than accept silence as an answer, Sam had kept texting though.

Sam: `[[Just tell me what you want. You know I'll do anything.]]`

Sam: `[[You're freaking me out. Are we okay?]]`

Sam: `[[Is this about the bondage thing?]] `

Sam: `[[We don't have to do that again.]] `

Sam: `[[I said that before. Just tell me if you don't like something.]]`

Sam: `[[Do you need women? Am I not enough for you?]]`

Sam was completely off the mark and entirely wrong about everything. It gave him a headache even before he made it to "his" replies.

not-Dean: `[[u r 2 much 4 me babee]]`

Dean didn't spell with friggin' numbers. Why would you even do that? Switching to the number keypad was more work than just spelling out "too" and "for". And he did not spell baby like that and he never called Sam baby in the first place.

Sam: `[[Are you drunk?]]`

not-Dean: `[[on luv!` ♥♥♥`]]`

Sam: `[[So… we ARE okay?]]`

not-Dean: `[[♥ ur my stalyun babee]]`

Sam: `[[Pick up the phone. I need to talk to you. Please.]]`

not-Dean: `[[pix?]]`

Sam: `[[What does 'stalyun' mean?]]`

not-Dean: `[[`♥ ♞ ⚣ ♥ ⚣ ♞ ♥`]]`

Sam: `[[That drunk, huh?]]`

not-Dean: `[[luv u *smoochie*smoochie* pics?]]`

Sam: `[[Please. Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.]]`

Sam: `[[Dean?]]`

Sam: `[[Talk to me.]]`

not-Dean: `[[Hold ur `♞ `bucko! SOMEBODY hza tiny bladder + hd 2 pee again]]`

Sam: `[[What?]]`

not-Dean: `[[i will get the 411 trust me, u owe me pix tho]]`

Sam: `[[Dean?]]`

not-Dean: `[[ok so is 1/2 eihter hes intimidated by the size of your dick or it's your stamina.]]`

Dean glanced up at Diana suspiciously. She didn't strike him as the sort of person who could spell intimidated _sober_. That sentence even ended with punctuation. The bartender smirked at him on cue. Oh, that's right. She'd been asking the bartender for help with her phone earlier, hadn't she? This was the point where a large hole opening up in the ground seemed like a good thing, not even entirely implausible given his history. He was only spared the man's condescending gaze when he turned to answer the bar's phone. Saved by a to-go order of wings.

Diana had clearly gotten the phone back at that point as not-Dean had followed up with: `[[OMG send pics now! du u hv ne 2gther?!]]`

Sam: `[[WHAT?]]`

not-Dean: `[[kk so iz not ur dick]]`

not-Dean: `[[he LUVS ur dick]]`

not-Dean: `[[like soooo much]]`

not-Dean: `[[lit wont stp takking abt ur dick]]`

not-Dean: `[[HOW r thr no pix on this phon?]]`

not-Dean: `[[ya def stamina thing]]`

not-Dean: `[[sez ur insayshubl]]`

not-Dean: `[[u shd get hm pills]]`

not-Dean: `[[also water]]`

not-Dean: `[[vita mins]]`

not-Dean: `[[naps]]`

not-Dean: `[[aft a cert age a man needz recovry time]]`

Dean was going to die. He'd left the bunker specifically to _avoid_ this conversation.

not-Dean: `[[u got 2 pace urself stud]]`

Sam: `[[Where are you?]]`

not-Dean: `[[i send address u send pic deal?]]`

Sam: `[[Deal.]]`

There followed a slightly blurry photo of the bar's specials list with the address and phone number at the bottom.

And then Sam's infuriatingly-beautiful face and Dean was back up to speed.

The bartender cleared his throat and shoved an old Bakelite landline at him. "For fuck's sake, just talk to him."


	2. Absofreakinlutely Not Drnuk

Dean tugged the phone as far as the coiled line would reach, which meant he only made it to the end of the bar near the pinball machine. 

"Funny story, Sam," Dean said, hoping he could get the words out before the Wookie interrupted him. "There is this very friendly blonde who's been trying to be helpful and she got my phone and you should disregard like the last couple hours of texts. This never happened. 'Kay?"

"Dean, is it true? Have I been asking for too much sex?"

Dean sighed and rested his head against the side of the pinball machine. "I never would have believed there even was such a thing a few months ago."

"Oh. We don't _have_ to have sex if you don't want to," Sam said, every wibble in his voice betraying him.

"I _want_ to have sex with you," Dean insisted and made the mistake of making eye contact with Diana who gave him a thumbs up. "I just… I get that you've been living like a monk and now it's like you've got like _decades_ of all this insatiable, pent-up sexual frustration to like… take out on me… And, shit, I know I'm irresistible, but…"

In a faint voice that clearly was not directed at him, Sam said, "No, he says he wants to have sex, but I'm insatiable."

"Ah, Chuck-on-a-pogo-stick, man, tell me you are not telling Castiel all of this?"

There was a guilty silence.

"Sam?"

"Actually, uh, Dean, Castiel has a possible solution."

"What?"

In the same removed voice, Sam said to Castiel, "You'd be okay with that? I don't want to impose."

And suddenly, in complete contradiction to everything he'd been trying to say, Little Dean was awake and interested. Dean himself was jealous as hell, but Little Dean was more than intrigued. 

Sam cleared his throat, "Um, yeah, so Dean, we think we've got a, uh, a workaround."

It was unquestionably the alcohol talking. That and Diana winking at him as she slid onto a nearer barstool. "I wanna watch," Dean said hoarsely.

"What?"

Dean turned away from Diana's leering gaze and cleared his throat. "I get to watch or no deal."

"Uh…"

Dean lowered his voice, both in volume and pitch. "No one else touches you," he said, slowly, "unless I get to watch."

"Oh. Hang on." Sam and Castiel whispered between themselves. The only thing Dean could clearly make out was, "He's _really_ drunk. I don't think this is the best time to… he can't drive home like…"

"I have a motel room," Dean volunteered. "It's across the parking lot from the bar. I've already got the room."

"Stay there," Sam said. "We're going to come and get you."

Dean felt truly drunk for the first time that night. Sure he'd tripped over a few words here and there. He knew he didn't have the reflexes to risk taking the Impala out on the road. Letting Diana slip out his phone right under his nose, that was definitely a sign that he was not operating at maximum efficiency. But that wasn't really about being drunk. He'd just gotten distracted talking about Sam and hadn't been paying attention. 

This. This felt like being drunk. The bartender took back the landline as Dean slumped back into position at the bar. 

Diana misread his expression, "Oh, baby, no. You promised not to break up with him!" Dean didn't recall ever making any such promise, but Diana shook her head and moved on. "You know what, screw him. You can do better. You need to get yourself a silver fox. _You_ can be the young hottie wearing _him_ out. I got a cousin!" 

She pulled out her own phone—hot pink and covered in rhinestones—and poked and swiped and cursed at the screen until she finally found a picture of a doughy old geezer holding a Tibetan Spaniel. 

Dean recoiled. 

Diana waved off his concern. "He's got _money_ ," she stage-whispered, somehow managing to still be louder than the radio playing in the background. "He owns his own house _and_ a timeshare in Phoenix."

Dean pretended to listen while Diana regaled him on the advantage of a sugar daddy. He could shut her up by showing her that picture of Sam and Castiel again. Point out the guy in the background. Explain how he'd apparently offered to finish sexing Sam up after Dean was worn out.

Or maybe before. That would be better, wouldn't it? Let Castiel get Sam all revved up and let Dean finish the job. Yeah, that's how it should go. Castiel would be the appetizer. Dean was the main course.

The phrase _sloppy seconds_ rattled around in his head. Would he be able to taste Castiel on Sam? His head spun and his gut seized up, but—damn, his pants felt even tighter. He slouched in closer to the bar, hoping to evade Diana's scrutiny.

Dean tried to buy them another round as a distraction, but the bartender cut them off and made them drink water before selling them overpriced glasses of V8 juice. Diana pouted and demanded that he at least put little paper umbrellas in them.

"Lady, you know you're in Kansas, right?"

"Umbrellas are for citrus anyway," Dean said. "Do you have olives? And straws? You should put the olives _on_ the straws. _That_ is what would go with a Virgin Bloody Mary. Or is it a Bloody Virgin Mary?" 

"Maybe just a Virgin Mary," Diana suggested. "Virgin Mary? Is that like blasphemous or something?"

The bartender plunked down a bowl of black olives and a couple of straws. "Knock yourselves out."

"You want to talk about blasphemous," Dean chuckled. "My brother is going to fuck an Angel of the Lord tonight."

Diana snorted as she dropped an olive in a failed attempt to thread it onto her straw. 

Dean wasn't sure if she was laughing at her own clumsiness or at Sam's impending angel-fucking, but just in case, he added, "True story." He grabbed a handful of olives and barely dropped any of them as he stuffed them onto his straw.

"Oh, wow, you are so good at that," Diana said. She only managed to spear two olives in the time it took Dean to fill his straw with seven so they swapped straws so that Dean could continue demonstrating his superior hand-eye coordination proving to anyone who was paying attention that he was not really drunk, while Diana dunked her olives in her tomato juice and occasionally nibbled them back off the straw, thus requiring the cycle to repeat.

"I have many talents," Dean said.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Diana said. "I speak only on behalf of womankind because I'm sure that the dudes of this world are very grateful. But. It's a shame that you're gay."

Dean snickered and dropped an olive which rolled away under his barstool. He decided he was _not_ going to enlighten Diana on the glory of bisexuality because he needed to save some for Sammy.

"Seriously," Diana slurred, the water and tomato juice and olives not noticeably helping her sobriety, "those are some magic fingers."

Magic fingers. _Magic Fingers!_

"Quarters!" Dean announced, slamming the bar. 

Diana squeaked and even the bartender startled.

"Sorry," Dean apologized. "I just remembered I need quarters."

This side of town was like time-traveling to 1978. The pinball machine still worked. The bar had wood paneling on the back walls and smoke-stained mirrors behind the bottles. They still had a landline. He wouldn't be surprised if someone walked in wearing bell bottoms and sideburns. Sam would look _so hot_ in tight bell bottoms. The motel across the gravel parking lot had handed him an actual metal key with a plastic fob instead of a keycard. And the bed had _Magic Fingers_!

The bartender initially tried to offer him four measly quarters and claimed he couldn't spare more change than that, so Dean picked the lock on the pinball machine. In the process of kneeling down to reach the back of the machine, he found three olives and a live mouse, which he opted not to mention to anyone since the bartender was already grumpy. To quell the bartender's protests about the lock—which he had not damaged at all, thank you very much—Dean paid him forty dollars for twenty dollars worth of quarters and, placated, the man even let Dean buy another round of alcohol.

"Do you know how to make a Purple Nurple?"

"What's that?"

"It's purple," Dean said, trying in vain to remember more details, "and good."

Diana came to his rescue. "Coconut rum, triple sec, Blue Curacao, and cranberry juice. Shaken not stirred."

"Yeah, sorry," the bartender said though he didn't sound sorry at all. "All out of coconut rum. Will vanilla vodka do?"

Diana shrugged. "Imma puke it all up later anyway so it's all good."

"You have coconut rum," Dean said firmly. "We were totally doing coconut rum shots earlier."

"Yeah, which is why we're all out. I honestly don't know how you two are still alive let alone vertical."

"Years of practice," they both answered in synchrony and Diana shouted, " _Jinx!_ Now you have to buy me a rum-n-Coke. What did I tell you? Twinsies!"

The man poured their booze and they clinked their glasses and toasted to Twinsies.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam asked.

Dean spun around on his barstool. " _There's_ my beautiful angel fucker!" he shouted, pointing at Sam.

" _O._ M. G. Our boyfriend is _so_ fucking hot!" Diana said.

Dean didn't even bother to correct her. "Sammy, this is my new bestie, Diana."

" _De_ anna," she lied.

"Liar," Dean said. "Don't listen to her. Barman, what's the lady's name?"

"Donna."

" _Dana!_ " she snapped in offense and then added, "Dammit!" when she realized what she'd done.

"Er, nice to meet you, Dana," Sam said, "but I'm afraid I need to take your bestie home now."

"Not home," Dean said, lurching into Sam's arms. "I have _quarters_."

"That's nice."

"I have a motel room right across the parking lot, _right there_ , and it has _Magic Fingers_ and you," he added poking Sam in one big, broad, beautiful shoulder, "are gonna vibrate Cash's feathers off."

"Cash?" Sam repeated.

"I believe Dean may be more inebriated than we initially calculated," Castiel said.

"Oh. Oh, are you his _too_? Oh, _please_ let me watch," Dana begged.

"No," Sam said just as Dean said, "Sure!" and Sam and Castiel both reiterated, "No!"

And then they picked Dean up and hoisted him between them and dragged him out of the bar.

"No offense. I'm sure you're a lovely person. It was nice meeting you, Dana," Castiel said over his shoulder on the way out.


	3. Warn A Guy

Dean floated across the parking lot. He could hear Sam and Castiel's footsteps crunch in the slightly damp gravel, his own feet only scuffing a broken line. "You boys are in quite the hurry."

Neither of them answered.

They leaned him up against the side of the Impala, which was parked directly between rooms 17 and 18.

"That one," Dean said and then second-guessed himself. "Or maybe it was that one."

Sam and Castiel looked at each other and shared a melodramatic eye roll.

Dean helpfully canted his hips toward Sam. "There's a key in my pocket with the room number."

"We should just take him home," Sam said, grabbing Dean by the armpits and lifting him up the distance he'd slid downward while trying to offer Sam access to his pockets.

"We should take him inside and sober him up first," Castiel said.

"Okay, fair," Sam said, looking around the parking lot furtively. "There are too many witnesses here."

There were four or five witnesses in the parking lot _tops_ and Dean figured they were probably up to worse shit themselves to be concerned about a little hanky-panky. But if the worry got Sam inside the motel room faster, bonus.

Dean's head lolled back onto the roof of the car while Sam did a far too efficient job of getting the motel room key out of his pocket. _The dude could have taken his time. Was that really too much to ask?_

They manhandled him into the motel room and Dean bounced onto the nearest bed, quarters spilling out of his pockets. 

Dean put a quarter into the Magic Fingers coin slot. Lining the coin up with the slot required more attempts than Dean would ever admit.

"Castiel, Dean and I need a moment to talk in private."

"Of course. Take all the time you need to… talk. I'll wait at the bar."

"No, Cash goes first," Dean insisted, as the Magic Fingers began to shake the bed. " _I'm_ the main course."

"Yeah, so, _Cash_ , if you wouldn't mind," Sam said, waving a hand at Dean.

"Of course," Castiel said and he leaned over Dean and reached out, touching his forehead with two fingers. 

Dean was suddenly bathed in the bright light of instant sobriety. "Fuck!" he gasped. "Warn a guy!"

Castiel ignored him and turned to Sam. "Call me when you need me," he said and then left.

Dean could almost imagine he was hungover. The motel lights were too bright and the Magic Fingers too loud and he was slightly nauseated by the smell of spilled liquor on his shirt combined with sweat and whatever cheap-ass perfume Dana had been wearing that rubbed off on him. His ass was slightly damp from leaning up against the car and he also felt like an idiot lying there on the bed jiggling away while Sam judgmentally scowled down at him.

But he blinked away the lights and a quick self-assessment revealed no headache or dry mouth. No sign of a hangover at all. Indeed the only source of physical discomfort was his erection, which throbbed with new enthusiasm. 

"Dude," Dean grumbled. "You can't just sober a guy up like that without his consent. Do you have any idea how much money I spent getting drunk?"

"We need to talk," Sam said.

"We need to fuck," Dean said.

"That too, but we need to talk first."

The problem was, now that Dean was sober, he was mad. Mad at Castiel for sobering him up. Mad at Sam for sending Castiel out when he was just starting to look forward to the show. Mad that Castiel was out there waiting in reserve for when Dean was spent and Sam still wanted more. 

Because no matter what Dean did, the needy little bitch always wanted _more_. Dean even had just enough self-awareness to know he was mad at himself for not being enough, but he shoved that thought aside quickly.

"No," Dean growled, pushing himself up onto his feet and stalking towards Sam. "First we fuck. And when I’m done with you, you won’t even have the _strength_ to ask Castiel for his magical angel dick."

Sam smiled. It was one of his annoying, smug smiles, like Sam had won and Dean didn’t get the joke. If he hadn’t been so damned horny, he might have paused to think about that more, but Dean had a mission.

He reached out and unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, peeling open the flannel, petting down the smooth cotton T-shirt underneath it before sliding his hands underneath to enjoy Sam’s beautiful flesh. Sam’s nipples puckered up and his chest heaved, but he was silent and deliciously compliant. 

He was also still smiling, all dimples and twinkling eyes. Bitch.

Dean knotted up the fabric of Sam’s T-shirt to use as a handle to tug him roughly forward, conveniently exposing his lovely abs. The boy was fit.

Sam chuckled as he allowed himself to be walked toward the bed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and set it on the bedside table, close to the edge in easy reach. Somebody apparently still planned on calling out for some magical angel dick later.

Dean caught Sam off-guard by spinning him away from the bed and slamming him up against the door. He pressed his whole body against him and dove in for a kiss before Sammy could even finish asking, "What the hell?"

Sam melted into the kiss, sliding down several inches as he widened his stance to let Dean slot in between his legs. Dean thrust his hips against Sam’s a couple of times, just to judge how ready he was, and, yeah, there was definitely an answering bulge there. He couldn’t resist a few more forays with his tongue before he abruptly broke it off and stepped back.

"Wha—?"

He held up his car keys. Sam was looking a little distracted, so he made sure Sam’s eyes registered them before he tossed the keys at him.

"Go get yourself some bonds out of the trunk," Dean ordered. They didn’t really do bondage so much as play a game where they took turns seeing who could get free the fastest. It was good practice and a nice mental distraction that Dean found helped him last longer when it was his turn to be strapped down.

"Which ones?" Sam asked. Some things were easier to get out of than others. The selection affected the game. Sam often went for the standard-issue handcuffs that he’d reliably been able to pick since he was a kid. The handcuffs were so easy to get out of that they were really just for show, but sometimes Sam liked a nice safe game of make-believe.

"Your choice. Just make sure you pick out something comfortable. You’re going to be wearing them a good long while."

Sam shuddered and closed his eyes briefly as if he already needed to collect himself. Then he took the keys and spun out of the room.

The Magic Fingers ran out of time while Sam was gone, which reminded Dean to gather up all the quarters out of his pocket plus the rest that had spilled onto the bed and floor. He counted them up as he arranged them on the bedside table, sliding Sam’s phone out of the way because they’d be using the quarters first. Drunk Dean had grossly overestimated how many quarters he’d need. They could go for close to a day on the coins he’d gotten at the bar.

Sam seemed to be taking his time, so Dean sat down on the bed and took off his shoes and socks. He’d save the rest to give Sam a show, but there wasn’t really a sexy way to take off your shoes and socks. 

His mouth still tasted like booze and he was considering whether it would be too extra to brush his teeth when Sam returned. 

All thoughts of toothpaste floated away because Sam had picked out the _good_ straps, a full set of thick leather wrist straps, which okay maybe he’d picked for comfort, but he brought the matching _collar_ too. Sam had never been able to get out of those. In addition to the leather, there was an iron chain threaded through the straps with Enochian sigils etched into them. Very useful if they had a magical being imprisoned, but they wouldn’t need that tonight.

The thought stuttered in Dean’s brain. 

Sam had to dig pretty deep in the trunk to find these straps and in the process had to pass over and reject others that would have worked just as well. Sam had gone out of his way to select the only thing they had in the Impala that _Castiel_ couldn’t get out of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear they get naked eventually. This story will finally earn its Explicit rating in the next chapter.


	4. Finally

Sam tossed the straps and a bottle of lube onto the bed and started to take off his own shirt, which was enough to snap Dean out of it. _Dean_ got to unwrap the presents. Sam should have known better.

Dean slapped Sam’s hands away and finished undoing the last button himself. It must have started raining again because Sam was slightly damp with a scattering of raindrops darkening his shoulders and back. Dean slipped the shirt off and tossed it at the dresser, where there was a chance it would dry off before Sam had to put it back on. Sam shivered as Dean pulled the T-shirt off over his head.

"Cold?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged and taunted, "I guess you’ll have to try to warm me up."

Sam loved to phrase everything as a dare. It was a cheap trick, but it was a cheap trick that nearly always worked on Dean even when he _knew_ it was a trick.

"Oh, I’ll warm you up all right," Dean said. It wasn’t much, but he didn’t have the brainpower to expend on witty comebacks.

With Sam’s shirt off, Dean groped right at his brother’s crotch. Sam rocked into the fondle and murmured appreciatively.

"Put your straps on," Dean said gruffly, tightening his grip on Sam’s groin.

Complain as he might, Sam liked being given orders. At least when Dean had Sam's dick in his hand. Sam picked the collar up first and fastened it around his neck. Dean made sure it was loose enough that he could grab it as a handle, which meant making Sam adjust it by one notch. Sam might have meant the collar just for show, but Dean was going to see that they got some use out of it.

"Good boy," Dean said, releasing his grip and instead giving Sam’s crotch an appreciative petting. "Now the wrists."

Sam was full of surprises. Instead of putting the straps directly on his wrists, he threaded them through the one big chain that ran around the outside of the collar, one wrist strap on either side of his neck. In that position, he wouldn’t be able to coordinate between hands to even _attempt_ to get free. Not to mention how helpless he’d be with his hands strapped at his throat. He wouldn’t be able to do _anything_ without Dean’s help.

Dean should really not get that turned on by taking advantage of his brother, but Sam was still fucking _smirking_ and Dean needed, at the deepest core of his being, to wipe that smirk off the boy’s face.

Sam was able to buckle one wrist into place without help, but Dean had to finish the task for him. It would have gone easier if Dean had been willing to let go of Sam’s bulge, but he still managed it one-handed, tightening up the last strap with his teeth.

Sam shivered again just as thunder crashed. The storm was picking up outside and it was just possible Sam was actually cold. He could suffer for another few seconds without it doing him any harm. Dean stepped away and put quarters in the Magic Fingers. Sam failed to hide his eye roll.

"Just in case I forget to say it later, ‘You’re welcome,’" Dean said. 

Sam openly snorted that time.

"Somebody’s getting a spanking for insubordination," Dean said seriously.

Sam ducked his head apologetically and bit his lip. Sam freaking loved getting spanked, but he had his weird hang-up about wanting to pretend he didn’t. It was all sort of backwards because, if Dean thought about it too hard, it meant he was _rewarding_ Sam for being a little shit, but maybe Dean liked the game too because he didn’t mind nearly as much as he thought he should.

Sex was just about the only time when Sam’s chronic disobedience didn’t irritate the hell out of him, probably because every time Sam crossed a line it gave Dean an excuse to pink up that pretty ass.

Shoes before jeans, Dean reminded himself even as he slowly began to unzip Sam. He slipped his hand inside Sam’s fly and wrapped his hand around his dick, literally hot to the touch. He slipped two fingers of his free hand under Sam’s collar and tugged him in for a slow, wet kiss. Sam moaned. Dean licked playfully at Sam’s nose before pulling his hand free and kneeling down to take care of the shoe situation.

"Dude?" Sam stood there awkwardly, glaring down at him with a huffy expression on his face.

"Shoes before jeans," Dean said aloud. "I’m being practical."

"Your timing sucks."

"Do you need a gag?"

"No, I’m good."

"Good," Dean said as he undid the laces on Sam’s shoes. "Putting a gag in that beautiful mouth would be such a waste."

Bent over with Sam still standing, Sam’s dick was bobbing just above Dean’s eye line, begging him to put his own mouth to work. He got one shoe off before giving in to temptation. He straightened his back up and tugged Sam’s jeans down to mid thigh and began to slowly lick long wet stripes from base to tip.

He was just starting to suck down the tip when Sam said, "Did you forget about the other shoe?"

Dean glanced up at Sam who tried to wave his hands in his standard _What gives?_ gesture, but with his hands at his neck it looked like some kind of weird jazz hands.

"Oh, my God, I’m actually going to have to gag you, aren’t I?"

"It’s distracting."

"I’m busy."

Dean went back to work sucking the head of Sam’s dick, but while it was definitely turning Dean on like crazy, Sam wasn’t making any of his normal appreciative little noises.

Dean slurped off the end and risked a glance up.

"Seriously," Sam said. "I need a timeout." He tried to make a timeout sign, but couldn’t cross the T.

They’d never gotten around to a safeword more creative than _safeword_ , but Dean figured _timeout_ was close enough.

"It’s just that my pants are sliding down so it’s hard to keep my balance and the bed is _loud_ and my shoe…"

"Was I arguing?" Dean said. "Sit down."

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed and the moment his ass made contact his whole body started to jiggle in time with the Magic Fingers. Dean made a mighty effort not to giggle as Sam’s dick jiggled to and fro. Dean failed.

"Aw, come on, man, that was _your_ stupid idea."

Dean fell back on his ass laughing. 

"Dean!"

Sam was full-on grumpy face, which just made it even funnier.

He pulled Sam’s other shoe off and flung it along with Sam’s pants over his shoulder without paying attention to where any of it landed.

Sam squirmed back on the bed, still jiggling, but Dean had worked all his giggles out. Sam was so damned pretty that it almost hurt to look at him. His hip bumped the bottle of lube as he squirmed, which was convenient because Dean had already forgotten where it was and it was definitely time for it.

"We put on your straps too soon," Dean mused. "I should have made you get yourself ready for me."

He feared it was a touch lazy, but he did enjoy Sam putting on a show. 

"Guess you’ll just have to do your share of the work for a change," Sam said. He was trying to sound serious, but couldn’t win against the dimples.

"Mouthy _again_ ," Dean said. "I nearly forgot that I owe you a spanking."

Sam whimpered as Dean moved the bottle of lube to the bedside table. He wasn’t sure if Sam was sad that anal play was being delayed or excited that he was about to get his ass slapped.

Dean sat down on the bed, still fully-clothed and manhandled Sam across his lap. It was a ridiculous position. The moose was far too large for it, but he still got his ass where he wanted it with Sam’s dick pressing against his own crotch.

"Try not to get any jizz on my pants," Dean said, knowing the pre-come was already getting on his jeans. "I have to wear these home."

"I’ll be good," Sam lied. Sam was always a naughty little bitch in bed.

He slapped Sam’s ass once, a solid smack. " _That_ is for lying."

Sam hummed in satisfaction.

" _That_ ," Dean said, making sure the next slap stung, "is for being mouthy and disrespectful."

"Is that all?" Sam rocked his hips against Dean and didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t getting off on it.

" _That_ is for enjoying it too damn much. _That_ is for besmirching the _Magic Fingers_. _That_ is for dragging Castiel into this. _That_ is for sobering me up without asking."

"That was Castiel. That wasn’t me. Maybe you should spank him."

"And _that_ was for sending Castiel away before we could even put him to work." Sam yelped and even Dean’s hand stung. 

He gave Sam’s red butt an apologetic squeeze, but before he could say he was sorry for getting too rough, Sam squirmed into his hand, and asked, "What kind of work did you have in mind for him?"

"Well, for starters, it would be useful to have someone who could actually reach that lube," Dean said, realizing he’d positioned himself just out of reach. "Just think, you could have magic angel fingers up your butt right now. I bet he could make it all tingly if he wanted to."

"Fuck, Dean! Will you get naked already?! I don’t want to come while you’re still in your jeans."

Dean flipped Sam onto his back to make sure he’d have a good view and he stood up and stripped down. "The thought of those angel fingers is really doing it for you, huh?" he growled.

Sam shook his head, but his face was flushed almost as red as his ass, so the denial didn’t hold much water.

A voice in his head was telling him to slow down and make Sam beg for it, but he shimmied out of his jeans without even trying to be sexy about it. Sometimes you just needed to get down to business.

Sam usually presented himself on all fours for a good old-fashioned doggy-style pounding. The angle worked well for them both. However, binding his hands up like that meant he’d end up face down in the mattress. Maybe Sam didn’t care or erotic asphyxiation was part of the plan, but Dean decided it was a good excuse for some face-on action. He always did like to kiss while he fucked. People dismissed missionary as too vanilla, but it had a few advantages.

He tugged Sam’s knees up into the air and spread them wide and began lubing him up. Sam appeared to already be regretting the straps or maybe he just kept forgetting he had them on as he spastically tugged as his bonds. Dean wriggled one well-lubed finger good and deep and deliberately stroked Sam’s prostate. 

"I’m afraid you’ll just have to do with plain old human fingers for now," he said. Sam bit his lip, but remained silent, which was a strong sign that he was close. It was just about the only time that Sam Winchester ever ran out of words. "Human fingers. Maybe some human dick?"

Dean had planned, as much as he was planning anything, to get Sam off at least once manually—wear the guy out a little before getting off himself—but that plan went out the window when Sam moaned as he switched to two fingers. Dean could barely resist long enough to get Sam stretched out properly.

"Ready?" Dean grunted, barely even waiting for a reply as he fumbled, lining up while the bed still vibrated away.

It was a fairly easy slide home because Sam was still loose from that morning. Because of course they’d _just_ done this this morning. It felt much longer ago on the other side of his drunken haze and snap sobriety, but this was literally what they’d been arguing about when Dean had decided to spend the night away to begin with. Sam hadn’t even given him a full twenty-four hours and he was needing it again. 

Dean hadn’t been able to look his brother in the eye and admit that he wasn’t sure he could get it up again and he hadn’t been willing to risk trying and failing, so he’d picked a fight and stormed out. Well, he had his second wind now so that wasn’t an issue yet, but that _yet_ was already lingering on the horizon. They had Castiel on deck _for a reason_.

He slammed his hips forward in a rush of jealousy. 

Sam grunted, but before Dean could apologize, Sam cried out, "Yes! Harder!"

Dean grabbed Sam’s hips firmly and rocked into him several more times. 

"Harder!"

Instead Dean grabbed Sam roughly by the collar and leaned in for a kiss. Sam kissed back enthusiastically enough, but he was squirming in frustration as the shift in position took the pressure off his prostate.

All the twisting and squirming was doing amazing things for Dean’s dick though and it was now going to be a near thing whether he got Sam off even once before coming in his ass.

"Harder, Dean! Please! Don’t hold back! Hurt me!"

Dean slapped Sam a bit more forcefully than could really be called playfully. "What did I say about getting mouthy?" he growled.

"Harder!" Sam said. "Don’t hold back! Dean, we have an angel. He can heal me. _Hurt_ me!"

Oh, that was… that was not something Dean had considered and he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to do it, but the thought sent a shiver down his spine. Sometimes they fought, not just argued but _fought_ —knock-down, drag-out, punches and bloody knuckles—but they hadn’t had one of their no-holds-barred dust-ups since… since their relationship had gotten physical in a _different_ way. Sometimes they started fighting and ended up hugging it out. Now they had the option of _fucking_ it out.

"You think I’m a cheating whore," Sam gasped out, apparently thinking Dean just needed a little more motivation to get rough. "What were you saying you want Castiel to do to me? Tell me _all about it_ while you punish me for being such a naughty boy."

He slapped Sam again and it stung for real that time, but Sam laughed and whooped in delight.

"I’m going to make Castiel do the work of getting you ready for me next time," Dean said. "And he’s not going to be all dainty, one finger at a time. He’s going to fucking fist you while I watch."

Sam was dripping pre-ejaculate now even as he continued to wriggle for a better angle on Dean’s dick.

"He’s going to lick up all that delicious pre-come while he fists you," Dean said, running his finger over Sam’s tip and then shoving his finger in Sam’s mouth so that he had to taste himself. "And you’re just so eager for it, you’re gonna be jizzing like a fountain before you’ve even tasted angel dick."

Dean sat back on his heels and adjusted his angle, thrusting upward to get some leverage on Sam’s prostate.

Sam tugged at his straps and then, in a voice far too calm and reasonable for the situation, said, "Dude, do me a favor and pinch my nipples. I can’t reach."

Dean abruptly pulled out while Sammy whined.

"You are not the one giving the orders," he growled. He rearranged the pillows and then rolled Sam over onto his stomach. Sam pressed himself flat against the vibrating bed and shamelessly humped the mattress. Dean jerked back on Sam’s collar with one hand and spanked him roughly with the other. " _That_ is for being a disobedient bitch and _that_ is for being a whore who can’t wait to get on that angel dick. I bet it glows just like a magic sword. What do you think, Sammy?"

Sammy didn’t offer an opinion other than, "Fuck! Yes! Harder!" so as soon as Dean had him propped up with pillows he fucked his way back in and pounded him good and hard. He didn’t even bother with a reach around until he was close to his own breaking point. Sam practically exploded in his hand after only a few strokes and, as he spasmodically clenched down, Dean followed a moment later.

Dean rolled Sam onto his back and was sorely tempted to join him, just to stretch out and enjoy the afterglow, but with Sammy cuffed, cleaning them up was his job. He supposed he could just unbuckle him, but it seemed more fitting to carry the game all the way through. They’d never faced the question of when to end the bondage because up until now neither of them had ever failed to free himself by the end. He went into the bathroom and wet down a washcloth with warm water and returned to wipe Sam down. 

In the few moments that he was out of the room the _Magic Fingers_ ran down. He couldn’t remember how long the device lasted. Fifteen minutes? Ten? How long had it already been running when they started? It’s not like he was done _embarrassingly_ quickly, but it certainly wasn’t the hours of hot sex that he was always promising Sam he was going to get one of these days.

Sam’s eyes were closed and he had a very satisfied smile on his face, so it’s not like there were any complaints. Yet Dean still felt a little disappointed in his own performance.

He tugged lightly at Sam’s collar. "Hey. How do you feel about a shower?" The post-sex make-out session was Dean’s favorite part, but Sam seemed in danger of falling asleep on him.

"Uh-uh," Sam said through a yawn. "No point getting cleaned up now. Not done yet."

Sam’s dick was good and floppy. He looked half melted. "Yeah, you look pretty done," Dean said. It wouldn’t last. Mr. Insatiable would be sniffing around for more as soon as the sun came up, but even Sam needed a _little_ time to recover.

Sam awkwardly waved one tethered hand in what was apparently a failed attempt at pointing and readjusted and then jerked a thumb towards the bedside table. "Give me about ten minutes before you call Castiel."


	5. Calling Castiel

Even knowing ahead of time that this was where this was inevitably headed, Dean still didn’t quite believe it. It was at least proof that the fault was not Dean’s. He _did_ his job. Sam had some kind of hang-up. This was on him.

Dean stalked over to the bedside table and snatched up Sam’s phone.

"We need to talk before Castiel gets here," Sam said, yawning again.

"Whatever." 

Castiel answered after a single ring like he’d been staring expectantly at the phone this entire time, which he probably had been. 

"You’re up to bat," Dean told him and hung up.

He hadn’t even set the phone down when there was an insistent knocking at the door.

" _Somebody’s_ eager," Dean scoffed.

"Whoa, Dean, don’t answer that." Sam tried to sit up, but lost his balance and tipped back again and scrambled for a second attempt. "We need to talk _now_."

"What? What else is there to say?"

The insistent knocking returned and Dean stalked over to the door.

"Dean, wait!"

Dean opened the door and Castiel squelched inside, drenched head to toe, with his cellphone huddled protectively against his chest.

"Were you just standing out there in the rain?" It was the least weird thing that had happened all day, but Dean still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He pushed the door closed against the weather and shook his head. "Why didn’t you go to the bar?"

Castiel glanced down at Dean’s nakedness and his eyes quickly darted over to Sam, who had managed to tuck his knees up in front of him and was modestly hiding behind his own legs.

"Hello, Sam."

"Hi," Sam sighed.

Castiel finally decided that intense eye contact with Dean was the best way to handle the situation. 

"I did go to the bar," he said. "However, I was concerned about your friend’s well-being after she experienced a dramatic dizzy spell."

"And?"

"I was trying to help."

"And?"

"You are familiar with the phrase ‘mean drunk’?"

"I might have heard of it, yeah." Dean was starting to feel weird about being naked because Castiel hadn’t even taken off his dripping wet coat and Sam was still hiding behind his legs and looking appropriately ashamed of himself for a change, which left Dean the only one flapping in the breeze.

"I believe Dana might be classified as a ‘mean sober’."

"Yeah, what did I tell you about sobering people up against their will?"

"She had a knife." 

Dean shrugged.

"I thought it would be prudent to wait in one of the vehicles, but I don’t have the keys and when I returned you sounded… busy. I didn’t want to intrude."

"That was very considerate," Dean said.

"The keys to my truck are right here," Sam said, curling up into an even more impossibly small knot of legs and tilting his head at the bedside table.

"Will you be requiring my services multiple times?" Castiel asked, causing Dean to choke on his own saliva. He then inexplicably added, "Should I drive back to the bunker or would you like me to wait in the truck until called upon again?"

Sam ducked his head and said, "I feel bad enough making you wait outside in the rain. Maybe we could try multiples _next_ time."

"Hey, you don’t need to hold back on my account," Dean insisted.

"It _was_ my idea," Castiel said. "It would be, at the least, impolite to withdraw the offer because of a little rain. I don’t mind waiting in the truck."

"Why would you wait in the truck?" Dean asked, equal parts confused and annoyed.

"The thing is," Sam said in a rush, "Dean and I actually haven’t had a chance to talk about your offer so I’m not sure he entirely understands…"

"Oh, just get on with it, already!" Dean snapped. 

Castiel shrugged and touched Dean’s forehead.

Dean didn’t see the point of it for a good two seconds and then his dick figured it out before he did. The sensation of all that blood suddenly rushing back southward was dizzying. And then there came the realization that Dean wasn’t the only one _flopping_ in the breeze, he was the only one _standing at full attention_ in the breeze.

Castiel turned and picked up Sam’s keys. "Sam?"

Sam smirked and shook his head. "No, I’m good actually."

"Do you mind if I grab a towel?"

"Go ahead."

Dean yanked a blanket off the bed and covered himself while Castiel was getting the towel.

"Sam, what is going on?"

"Is there a problem?" Castiel asked, carefully toweling off his phone while water still dripped from his hair.

Sam cleared his throat. "Dean misunderstood _how_ you were offering to help."

"I _misunderstood_?" Dean sputtered. " _I_ misunderstood? You—"

Castiel squinted at him, head tilting slightly. "But how else could you possibly have thought I could be of serv— _Oh!_ "

Castiel’s eyes darted to Sam who was still _tied up and naked_ and hiding behind his knees. 

"Oh, I see," Castiel said. He squinted at Dean, head tilting nearly forty-five degrees. "And you _agreed_ to—"

"Wait in Sam’s truck."

"So you _will_ be requiring my services multiple times?"

"As many times as it takes for this one to beg for mercy."

Castiel sighed. "Next time, I’m limiting my offer to the bunker. There are things I could be watching on Netflix right now."

Castiel flipped the towel over his head and ducked out into the rain.


	6. Round Two

As soon as the angel left, Sam uncurled himself to reveal he was already hard again despite no magical intervention. 

"The only reason I'm not punching you in the face right now is because you're tied up," Dean said, stomping over to the bed.

"I can take it," Sam said and he probably could, but Dean still wasn't punching a guy who was helpless even if he did deserve it.

They fucked silently other than grunting. It was rough and artless and Dean was still a little bit angry, but at least Sam had the sense to keep his mouth shut this time.

When they were done, Dean got a washcloth and cleaned Sam up. He then left Sam tied up while he went to take a shower alone.

The post-sex glow faded quickly as even his anger gave way to embarrassment. Castiel had seen him naked, naked _and aroused_. And Sam had let on that Dean had not only misunderstood his offer, but had actually _agreed_ to let Castiel fuck his brother. Dean had the irrational urge to just go jump in the car and drive until he ran out of road. Did they need hunters in Mexico? Canada maybe? Alaska definitely had to be haunted.

The other alternative was to just stay in the shower forever, which was tempting, but Sam was already calling out his apologies from the other room.

"I'm sorry, okay? I know you're mad, but I'm starting to cramp up here."

Dean turned off the water and toweled off without hurrying. He wrapped a towel around his waist in pointless modesty and then walked back into the room to free Sam from his straps.

"Thanks," Sam said, unusually demure and contrite as he rubbed his wrists.

Dean just grunted and started to put his clothes on.

"You're getting dressed?" Sam asked, sadly.

"Are you not done?!" Dean snapped. "Counting this morning, that was three times in one day."

Sam was flaccid and flushed and certainly _looked_ like he was done for the night.

"Yeah, but…"

"But?"

"I mean… we did ask Castiel to stick around," Sam pointed out. "It would be almost rude not to put him to use."

"So… Castiel zaps us both, heals our refractory periods, and we go at it again?"

"Yeah," Sam said, a smile creeping across his stupid face.

"And again? And again? And…? How many times until you're done?"

Sam shrugged and smiled even wider. "How many licks _does_ it take?"

"Fine. Call him."

Dean finished zipping his jeans, because the angel wasn't getting a free show this time.

When Castiel entered, he looked even more constipated than usual. He zapped them both and then announced, "I'm taking the pickup and going back to the bunker now."

"That's fair," Dean said, even as Sam huffed his disappointment.

Castiel didn't even bother to close the door behind him. Dean sighed and offered a halfhearted wave out the door as Castiel drove away.

"Congratulations," Dean told Sam. "You made him even weirder."

Sam didn't even pretend to be apologetic. "If this is our last round of the night, can I top?"


	7. Round Three

Dean closed the motel room door and peeled off his clothing, doing his best not to appear to be in a hurry about it. He was still annoyed with Sam, but that currently took a backseat to the fact that he was horny as hell. No matter what his brain knew, his body acted like he hadn't gotten laid even once today. 

Also, he kinda liked it when Sam topped even if he wasn't 100% comfortable saying that out loud all the time. Asking his brother for what he wanted was inexplicably more difficult than he had expected.

He crawled onto the bed and presented himself on all fours. Sam got to work lubing him up without requiring any instructions. Sam liked everything hard and fast and a little too rough, but after a rocky start in their expanded relationship Sam had finally learned to slow down a little when it came to things like this. He gently fingered Dean with plenty of lube until Dean had to bite back the urge to plead for more. Sammy didn't deserve the satisfaction of making Dean beg. Not today.

When he couldn't stifle his moans any longer, Sam took the hint. "Ready?" he asked, already rubbing his dick against Dean's ass.

"Ready," Dean said. _More than,_ Dean thought.

Sam slid home and took his first few strokes in blissful silence and, for just a moment, Dean's brain happily melted out of his ears and everything was right with the world. Then the dumbass had to start talking again.

"You know, I bet he would if you asked nicely," Sam said.

" _He_? Would _what_?" Dean asked, refusing to acknowledge that he knew what Sam was talking about.

"Castiel," Sam said, adjusting his angle of approach on Dean's prostate and there was enough additional brain-melting that Dean honestly wasn't sure if Sam said anything else.

Dean flexed his back and wriggled against Sam. He probably looked like a damned fool, but it felt _soooo_ good.

"I'm just saying," Sam continued, sounding only slightly out of breath. "Castiel is overdue for a little loving himself, y'know?"

Dean only grunted. It was probably true and more than likely a contributing factor to Castiel being even more grumpy than usual lately. But putting those thoughts into words and those words into any sensible order was beyond him at the moment. Sam was some kind of inhuman freak who could lecture you on the difference between West Coast and East Coast cryptids while in the midst of an orgasm and then follow it up with a lecture on the influence of Ancient Greek on modern hexes as his post-sex cuddle talk.

"It was definitely turning you on," Sam said, refusing to let the subject drop. "The idea of watching me and Castiel fuck."

"You are really hot for that angel dick, huh?" Dean gasped.

"The question is," Sam asked, picking up his pace slightly as he usually did, forgetting Dean preferred a slow tease, "how hot are _you_ for that angel dick?"

Dean was too close to the edge to be having this conversation. Sam didn't even have his hands on him with a considerate reach-around and he was already dripping like a faucet. "Not. About. Me."

"But he'd gladly give it to you," Sam purred. "Or take it from you. Probably both. It's no secret the way he looks at you. Do you think Castiel has ever given anyone a blowjob before? You could be the first dick in his mouth ever."

"Hands on the task, Sammy!"

Sam finally wrapped his big slick hand around Dean's dick and gave it a tug and a squeeze and that's all it took. "Fuck, yes!" Dean cried out.

Sam stroked him through his trembling aftershocks and then moved back to pounding his ass like a machine, which in Dean's post-orgasm state was suddenly uncomfortable but Sam came a moment later so it's not like there would have been a point in complaining.

It was Sam's turn to handle clean-up so Dean was just drifting off when Sam turned out the lights and snuggled up next to him. No. Dean's eyes flickered open briefly just long enough to verify that Sam _hadn't_ turned out the lights like he usually did before crawling into bed. "Lights," Dean mumbled.

"You know," Sam said. "I was thinking…"

"Fuck me," Dean said. Sam thinking was never good.

"Just did," Sam laughed. He kissed the corner of Dean's mouth and continued, "If we drove back to the bunker now…"

"Not now," Dean insisted. "Sleep now."

Sam was silent for approximately thirty-seven seconds. "I could go for a pizza. You?"

Dean gave up. He didn't even argue about Sam not being allowed to put weird vegetables on his pizza. He was hungry enough that he could eat two pizzas himself anyway. Let Sam fill one up with eggplant and spinach or whatever the hell he ate.

Dean got up and started getting dressed. "Get the stuff," he said over his shoulder as he walked out to the car.

Sam followed him out a few minutes later, casually carrying lube and leather straps which he tossed into the trunk. Dean almost asked him if he'd grabbed the quarters and then decided it didn't matter. Housekeeping deserved the tip if he'd left them behind anyway.

Dean cranked up the music and they drove to the pizza place without talking. They should have called in a to-go order, but even as Dean considered it, he knew that would mean turning the music down and once Sam started talking on the phone, he might not stop talking and Dean was not ready for talking.

They were driving to get pizza because Sam wanted pizza, but then they were also headed back to the bunker where Sam possibly wanted to get touched by an angel and Dean was… okay with that? Not okay with that? Okay with it but not entirely okay with being okay with it? Best to keep his eyes on the road, the music up loud, and not talk about any of it.

At the pizza place, Dean ordered one pepperoni and onion and one mushroom and sausage with garlic, both with extra cheese. Sam ordered a pizza covered in every manner of disgusting vegetable they had.

They ordered a couple of sodas while they waited for the pizza and sat at a nearby table where they stared at each other weirdly without speaking for half an hour. They were about six feet away from an arcade machine from the 90s where a middle-schooler was smashing buttons while the machine beeped and clanged and at random intervals between electronic bloops shouted, "Cowabunga!". Even Sam had the sense to not bring up angel sex under the circumstances. Dean was irritable and felt like snapping at the kid about being out past his bedtime, but he checked his watch and it was only 10PM and not even a school night. Also, based on the stupid grin on Sam's face, the kid might be the only thing saving him from that conversation that they were absolutely not having.

Sam sipped on his straw in a way that was just possibly not intended to be suggestive but absolutely was. In fairness, they'd reached the point where Sam couldn't really breath without it seeming suggestive to Dean.

The pizza place smelled awesome and Dean's stomach was already rumbling well before the time their to-go order was ready. When the man behind the cash register waved for their attention and shoved three pizza boxes across the counter, Dean practically leapt out of his chair to collect them.

He handed them off to Sam when they got to the car so he could drive. He was so distracted by pizza that he didn't get the music started fast enough and Sam started yapping.

"I'm not trying to pressure you into something you don't want to do," Sam blurted out. "We don't even have to take advantage of Castiel's healing powers again if that makes you uncomfortable. You can put a limit on me; sex no more than once every twenty-four hours."

Dean stayed silent, but it didn't help. At all. The more Dean bit his tongue, the faster Sam talked.

"Sex no more than once every thirty-six hours? Twice a week. Once a week. I'll wait and let you initiate sex every time."

"Hand me a slice of pizza," Dean said. He thought about it a moment and added, "Please."

Sam opened the top box and pulled out a slice for Dean and then one for himself.

Dean's eyes were out the windshield so he didn't even notice it was the veggie pizza until he was already eating it. It was… good. He was never admitting that to Sam. Sam had ordered freaking artichokes on it. It had no business tasting good.

The slice bought him a few minutes delay and took the edge off his hunger and subsequently his mood.

"I like having sex with you," Dean announced and immediately cringed. There had to be a smoother way to say that. "I like having sex with you _often_. I just need a day off every now and then. And not twice in the same day. Because, and don't get me wrong—because that was fucking awesome—but without magical intervention that's not happening again. And. It's not." He struggled for the right word and then continued. "It's not _appropriate_ to impose on Castiel for something like that."

"It was Castiel's idea," Sam reminded him.

"Yeah, well, he didn't look that happy about it."

"Well, his original offer hadn't involved waiting around outside a motel room in the rain," Sam said. "Also, you _just_ put the idea in his head that you would be okay with him _fucking me_ and then _sent him back outside_."

Dean wordlessly waved his hand in a gimme motion over the pizza box and Sam handed him another slice.

He took two big bites and then asked, "You think he wanted to?"

"Why not?" Sam asked. "I'm cute."

 _Bitch._ He had Dean grinning. And. Worse. Actually considering the unthinkable. 

"But… he's Castiel," Dean said, as if Sam might have forgotten that part. "It would be… weird."

"Did you forget the part where you're having sex with your own brother? We're way past weird. Weird isn't even in our rearview mirror anymore."

"He won't want to," Dean said firmly. He bit off another mouthful of pizza and then mumbled around it, "It's probably against angel code or some shit."

"We could _ask_ ," Sam said.


	8. And They All Live Happily Ever After Dammit

When they got back to the bunker, Dean was half expecting Castiel to not be there. You never knew with him. He had his own room, but half the time he was off doing important angel stuff and didn't even bother to say goodbye. But they found him in the kitchen reading one of the old books.

"Do you want pizza?" Dean asked. He grabbed a couple of beers while Sam opened up the pizza boxes on the counter.

"No thank you," Castiel said, barely glancing up from his book.

"Do you want to have sex with us?" Sam asked.

Dean choked on his own spit, the beer bottle still an inch away from his mouth.

Castiel looked up from his book.

"You're allowed to say no," Dean added. "Say no and we never mention this again. It doesn't have to be weird." _Shit._ It was totally gonna be weird now.

Castiel smiled. "If I wouldn't be imposing?"

"Not at all," Sam said. 

This was the weirdest conversation ever to sound perfectly normal. Dean took a swig of his beer.

Castiel smiled wider.

"Yes, that sounds enjoyable."

Dean blinked a few times and then announced, "I get to finish my pizza first."

Castiel even had a slice of pizza to be polite and to be even more polite he didn't say anything weird about pepperoni molecules or any of the other weird shit that sometimes came out of his mouth.

After they'd eaten their fill and put away the leftovers, they headed to Sam's room because for some reason Sam's room was the one they always ended up in for sex (if they made it that far; there were several parts of the bunker that would not stand up to scrutiny under a blacklight). 

"We're gonna need a bigger bed," Dean announced. It wasn't a new thought. Even with the two of them, Sam's bed wasn't big enough. Honestly, with just the one of Sam it probably still wasn't big enough.

Sam shrugged. "We can make it work."

"Tell you what. For your next birthday, I'm going to build you a bigger bed. Custom job. Extra space."

Sam smiled at him and started undressing. 

"Should we _all_ disrobe now?" Castiel asked.

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wondered briefly if they should show Castiel more porn for a better handle on how sexy talk worked, but that would have probably just made things worse. 

"Yeah, man, lose the clothes," Sam said.

The thought _keep the tie_ flitted across Dean's mind, but he didn't say it out loud. It wasn't something he could explain. Maybe next time.

It occurred to him that there were going to be nearly infinite next times.


End file.
